


Wolves and Dragons

by StarsOverTheEast



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, not so dark - dark lords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsOverTheEast/pseuds/StarsOverTheEast
Summary: "At that Mairon burst into flame, his eyes becoming two dark balls of red."-A lot goes on in Angband.Sometimes, it's an argument.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For friends.
> 
> Characterization of Melkor and Mairon may not necessarily match your own.

Angband.

Mighty fortress of evil.

Seat of power for Melkor and the vile, wicked horrors of his imagination.

Home to monsters, enslaved elves, and fallen Maiar who bow their knee and wreak havoc in the world. 

Perpetually covered in dog hair.

Melkor.

Mightiest of the Valar, he who had arose in might. Moved across the land as a storm.

The foul, cruel master of the dark.

The lord to which all evil things severed. 

Perpetually annoyed by said dog hair.

Currently a small sprinkling of the stuff rested at the front of his throne; and while the wolf who had supplied it did look good there (snarling and snapping at scared elves) the remains certainly did not.

“Mairon,” Melkor mumbled, turning in the direction of the room he knew the Maia would be in. This was all his fault really. Allowing his assortment of mutts to scamper about every room, down every tunnel. 

Of course Melkor had his own pets, dragons who enjoyed the same freedom, but they could hardly be at the same kind of fault. They didn’t leave a mess wherever their scaly feet took them, minus the occasional fire and chunks of flesh bit from an orc. 

A yelp greeted Melkor as he entered the room, bought on by his rather pointy, black shoe stepping on a wolf’s tail. Ignoring the oddly convincing puppy dog eyes, Melkor folded his arms against his chest and prepared to give the Maia a stern look. 

Mairon ignored him.

The Lieutenant of Angband lay sprawled upon the floor, grinning up at a small wolf he held over him. Around him rested the siblings of the puppy, one chewing on what appeared to be a crude doll of that red haired elf hanging outside. In the corner of the room rested a small orc, screaming as he held his arm.

“Who’s a good boy?” cooed Mairon, smiling up at the creature in his hands. “You. You’ll join the hunt soon, bring fear to all who dare oppose –“

“Mairon.”

“Our Dark Lord.”

Mairon dropped the puppy beside him and rose to his feet in one swift, fluid motion. The wolves parted from around him, realizing that now was not the best time to shower their master in affection. There were rumors about the group that the tall, black one would feed them to the large lizards. 

“Mairon.”

“My King.”

“Your werewolves have been against the throne.”

“They desire to be at your side.”

“I desire to see less hair.”

Mairon crossed his arms.

“You gave no quarrels to your dragons leaving spots of ash and blood before you.”

“They are easily washed away. And there will always be more.”

Mairon frowned now, tapping one finger against his arm. 

“You speak of them as though they are the lazy pets of the elves,” he said. “They live to serve me, follow me and so live and fight for you.”

“The dragons –“

“The dragons!” cried Mairon, the sleeves of his elegant shirt suddenly catching aflame. “The dragons are more trouble than they are worth! Even the smallest consume more than my wolves do.”

“There are plenty of elves,” reasoned Melkor, raising a hand to rub his aching head. “Orcs…”

“My lord, there are other designs we might put our time too. Surely you remember my ideas…”

“Perhaps I would if I didn’t spend so much time ordering the orcs to clean away hair.”

At that Mairon burst into flame, his eyes becoming two dark balls of red. Sparks leapt from his hair and skin and the wolves let out a yip. 

“Ah,” said Melkor, stepping back towards the door. “Truly Mairon, you are the brightest of all the Maiar. You skill with the forge is unchallenged and you are wise beyond –“

“I’m listening.” 

“Beyond all. Come my loyal servant, I delight in hearing your ideas.”

“I believe, my kind lord, we were discussing other matters of import.”

“We have moved on.”

Even while on fire Mairon could still display a wide variety of motion, and he now lifted one burning eyebrow at the Vala, his mouth set in a line. Melkor bought a smile to his lips, hesitantly reaching out a hand in an effort to find some part of his Maia that was not burning. 

“Mairon.”

The flames continued to rise, Mairon blowing a puff of smoke from his mouth.

“Mairon … Please …”

Suddenly the flames burned out, and fire maia took a deep breath as his usual, elegant appearance returned; smoothing out his hair with one hand.

“I will have an elf attend to the hair, my lord.”

“It would please me.”

“Of course.”

With a nod Melkor turned to go, taking care to avoid wolf tails this time, when Mairon called out.

“My Lord, I believe you spoke of hearing my ideas?”

Melkor lingered in the doorway.

“Are these ideas concerned with my dragons?”

“Yes.”

“Well …”

Angband.

Lair of werewolves.

Nest of the dragons.

Perpetually smelling of smoke from the fire that Melkor hath kindled.


End file.
